To Whatever End
by MelanyeBaggins
Summary: Due to unforseen circumstances, Legolas is unable to go with the Fellowship, and so he sends his sister, Laileth. NOT a mary-sue or '10th member' fic. Rated PG...for now.
1. Hope Fades

AN: This is a recent plot-bunny that has been running around in my head like a caged animal for the past two weeks. I finally decided to let it out (on a leash) and see if it's worth writing. This story (if continued) will be as canon as possible (with a few movie and artistic liberties, but they will be few) and is NOT, I repeat, *NOT* a mary-sue. This OC story is NOT perfect, nor is she going to 'save the day' every time. Hopefully I will be keeping very strict to the book format (i.e.- the chapters will be titled the same and encompass the same...time span as in the books), save for the first few chapters that, necessarily, will be different (I have to set up my OC, after all)

Anyway, enough babbling.

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To Whatever End...

Chapter One: Hope Fades

All of Mirkwood was in turmoil. Word had spread like wildfire of the ill-fated scouting party and rumors abounded. Inside the palace healing rooms, frantic preparations were made to accept the many wounded and slain that had been reported by the messengers. Their hands shook as the herbs and instruments were prepared, for they did not know exactly what to expect. One of the rumors bore mention of a Nazgul.

The milling about rose to a crescendo as the wounded were at last within sight of the city. The first of the wounded were finally brought in and the healers began their work. Many elves clad in armor and hunting outfits were brought in, bearing various degrees of injury. One she-elf with a thin silver circlet woven into her dirty blonde hair rushed in carrying another elf in her arms. She made for one of the beds the furthest away from the others and gently laid her burden on the soft fabric. Several healers swarmed around her and the elf, concern and worry marking their faces.

"Hurry," she said, a frown marring her face, already streaked with blood and dirt. One of the healers caught her eyes. 

"How did this happen?" he asked urgently.

"A Nazgul struck him with his blade," came the answer, voice filled with loathing. "They have returned to Dol Guldur." 

"_Hiril nîn,"_ the elf said in disbelief, "this is distressing news! Alas that the prince was not here to help." The woman frowned at the words, but nodded her head in agreement. 

"My brother would have been of great help to us, but that does not matter now." She looked down at the pale face of the elf on the bed. "What can you do for him?" The healer sighed. 

"The wound itself is not serious, that I can heal easily. It's the contact with the Nazgul that is poisonous. There's no telling how it will affect him." He looked up at her gravely. "He may not survive." She held his eyes firmly, looking for some hint of hope in them, and finding none.

"He must live," she stated as if it weren't already an obvious fact. "There must be something you can do!" Tears were brimming in her eyes, for a moment turning the slight blue tint a vivid violet.

"I am sorry, Laileth," he said, "There isn't." She held his eyes firmly for a long time, even as other healers began their frantic efforts to help the elf on the bed. Then, as if her legs had ceased to function, she fell to the ground, clutching a wound that she hadn't known she'd taken. The healer ran to her side to tend to her but she pushed him away.   
  
"_Daro,"_ she cried, "see to my father!" He caught her wrists and restrained her easily, weakened by the wound. He shook his head. 

"No. Others will care for him, you need help also." Again she tried to fight him off, trying desperately to get to the elf on the bed beside her but the healer overpowered her and pinned her to the floor.

"_Saes!" _she cried, "you must save him! He must live!" She continued thrashing about in his grip, but suddenly stilled as the figure on the bed began convulsing. Other healers ran to the bed and began frantic attempts to calm the patient down, but it was no use. The figure stilled and a lifeless hand slid from the bed to hang limp in the air. At first there was silence in the room. It seemed that everyone had stopped what they were doing and just stared. Then, at first low and quiet, but quickly rising to a shrill keening wail, Laileth began to scream. 

The healer holding her again restrained her, but nothing could stop her from crying out in her grief. After several minutes her voice faltered and became hoarse, and several minutes after that it stopped altogether, but not for lack of emotion. Her wound at last pinned her down, and the pain of it had sent her into unconsciousness. When her screams had stopped, the room remained silent for several long moments while the healers just stared at what had happened. Slowly, sounds of the others in the room mourning the loss could be heard, but far less dramatic than those of the daughter of the deceased. Then at last the elf holding Laileth down looked up to the others.

"Where is the prince?" he asked no one in particular. 

"He is in Rivendell," came the answer. "Shall I send for him?"

"Yes," the healer replied. "Send for him at once." The elf left the room in haste and the healer again looked down at the still form beneath him. "_Mirkwood will not survive long without a King,"_ he whispered.


	2. Painful Coronation

Chapter Two: Painful Coronation 

Laileth had been restricted to the healing rooms for the next week. Her wounds were indeed serious, but even after she had healed they had forbade her from leaving. There were other, less visible wounds that needed mending. At first she had protested the confinement, but soon gave into her own despair and simply lay silent in grief, only rousing enough to eat when someone came to remind her. 

Two weeks after her father's death her brother at last returned. He was immediately told of the scouting party and how it had gone sour, and the fate of his family. He rushed into the room where Laileth had been kept and knelt by her bedside, raw emotion searing his face like a brand. She opened her eyes and saw him, staring wide eyed and almost disbelieving his presence. 

"Legolas," she confirmed, her voice cracking. He leaned forward to envelop his sister in a tight hug, nearly crushing her with its intensity. "Legolas, I'm so sorry," she whimpered against his shoulder, "I vowed to keep him safe, but they were just too powerful." He hushed her, stroking her golden hair and shaking his head, rocking her back and forth in his arms. 

"Nay, Laileth, it is I who should be sorry for leaving you alone," he said. She heard the deep sorrow in his voice and fresh tears traced their way down her face. "You should have gone in my place." Laileth sat up and released her brother from her embrace. 

"How did Elrond take the news?" she asked, almost as if she did not want to hear the answer. Legolas looked into her eyes and frowned.

"Not well," he said. "Laileth, there is more going on than simply an escaped captive," he said gravely. "The Ring of the Enemy has been found." Laileth started at the words, looking around her to see that they were alone. "There's more," he continued. "The Ring is now in the hands of a _perian_, and after great debate and council, it was decided that he would take the Thing into the fires of _Orodruin._ Companions were chosen by Elrond to guard and guide him on his way. I am one." Laileth slowly shook her head. 

"But you cannot go now," she said. "Not after..." she left the sentence unfinished and Legolas nodded. "You are to be king."

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"Ú-aníron den," he whispered. 

"Neither did _adar_," she said, "but it was his duty to lead, as it is yours." Legolas stood, turning away from her and examining a tapestry on the wall in front of him. He raised a nervous hand to smooth back his hair as he thought, attempting to keep the full weight of his grief from his actions. 

"You are right, I cannot go," he said finally, turning back to face her. The grief had left his voice, but was startlingly present in his eyes. "You will take my place." Laileth did not answer, save for the slow shaking of her head. "You must," he said in an almost pleading tone, "it is my place to choose who will go in my stead. I _choose_ you." 

"_Muindor nin_," she said, standing and walking towards him. "Choose another. If what you say is true and they head to the Black Lands, they need a warrior. Send Saeros, or..."

"No," he cut her off. "You say I have my duty to the Kingdom, then I say you have also." She unconsciously straightened at his mention of duty. All their lives they'd been trained for their role within the monarchy as well as the army. Where Legolas had been hailed as the best archer, she also was among the best in Mirkwood, second only to Legolas himself. "The Prince of Mirkwood was chosen," he continued, "I would send no lesser replacement than its Princess." Laileth bowed her head in acceptance of this first command from her new King.

The next morning the new King was crowned. As the slender gold circlet was placed upon his brow, Legolas felt it's weight to be intolerably heavy. It was a burden that should never have come to him, and had he not himself buried his father, he would be certain he was stealing power from another. 

His eyes flew to his sister's as the scrolls were read, and scanned the crowd ruefully as he took his vows. He wanted to cry out, to protest the weight of care being set upon his shoulders, but could not. It was his duty to accept it, just as now it was his duty to marry and produce an heir, to continue the line of his fathers. His heart felt sick with responsibility, loathing every moment the soft gold touched his skin. At last the melodious chanting ceased and he watched as all in the room bowed to their King who would be Prince. 

Numbly he turned, walking up to his father's throne. He came within a step from the carved wood seat and stopped, unable to go any further. He stared at it, the symbol of his father's rule, and could not bring himself take it. Almost he had a mind to order it removed, and his chair that stood beside it put in its place, but at the last he forced his trembling legs to press on. Gingerly he sat, finally taking his place upon the throne of Mirkwood. He wondered to himself if his father had had such difficulty assuming the throne upon the death of Oropher.

Soon the crowd dispersed. The crowning of an Elven-King is, necessarily a solemn occasion. The coronation of a new monarch meant the death of another, and so it was rarely celebrated. At last the halls were emptied, save for his aides and advisors, and his sister who had not moved. Legolas motioned to her to come closer and she walked up to the throne.

"When will you leave?" he asked. She looked at him curiously. 

"When do you think I should leave?" she answered carefully. A humorless smile played upon the young king's lips in answer.

"The quest is of great importance," he replied. "It cannot be delayed; you must leave at once. Before I was summoned the Dunedain and the sons of Elrond were scouting the lands for rumor of the Nazgul. The sooner you arrive with news of one in the Greenwood the better. I must admit, had it not been for this incident we would not have thought to search this far." After a long silence she finally spoke in answer.

"You will be in danger now," she said. "If what you say is true and the weapon of the enemy has been found, the Nazgul may become bolder and attack the city openly. You will need help." Legolas nodded.

"I have considered this. I will send word to Lothlorien and seek council and aid from them, but you must go." Laileth stood and bowed to her king.

"I will complete the quest," she vowed, "to whatever end." With that she turned to prepare for her journey. Just before she left the halls, he called out to her.

"Laileth," she turned when she heard her name. "Tell Estel...tell him I'm sorry." Wordlessly she nodded and left the halls.


	3. The Fellowship Reforms

AN: Here you are! Chapter three. I must apologize, I forgot to add the elvish translations at the end of the first two chapters. I will add them now at the end of this chapter. Oh, and all elvish (including when someone is speaking elvish but is written in english) is in _italics_. Now read.

Chapter Three: The Fellowship Re-forms

Laileth left her home behind the next day. Before mounting her horse she'd been hugged by her brother, who sternly commanded her to be safe. She clung to him tighter, drawing strength from his presence and, already feeling the slight change in his being. Even being king for only a day had affected him. 

"Take these," he said, holding his white knives and their harness out to her. She pushed them back to him with a frown.

"Nay, Legolas, I have my own weapons." Indeed, she was well armed. She was no stranger to combat and already wore her bow and quiver, which had belonged to their mother, and her twin short daggers, nestled safely within easy reach in the small of her back. Her long thin sword was strapped to the horse's flank, and she gestured to it as she spoke. He again stretched out his arms to her, offering the knives once more.

"Please take them," he said, "even if they do not get used. I would feel better knowing that at least part of me is present on the journey." She frowned deeply, but took the knives and hugged him again. Her heart ached from the necessity of parting with him, so soon after the death of a family member. She felt she was abandoning him to a cruel fate. Neither of them knew if they would ever see the other again, and silently they said their farewells, in case the worst should happen. 

Turning from her brother's embrace, she stowed the knives in her pack, strapped next to her sword, and mounted her horse. The two siblings shared a long meaningful look, and Laileth reached down to take her brother's hand, kissing the back of it and clutching it to her heart.

"I will come back," she promised. He squeezed her hand before letting go with a nod, silently giving permission to go. With one last long look into each other's eyes, she tapped her heel into her horse's side and was off. She did not look back, though Legolas stood at the gates for a long time.

She rode with all speed to Imladris, barely stopping at all to rest, save for when her mount needed to regain strength. She took the quickest, most direct route over the mountains, using the High Pass of the Beornings out of courtesy for her horse. All the while during her travels she stretched her senses out to the trees, earth and waters, listening for rumor of anything that had happened, good or ill. They all whispered of a great shadow that had trampled the land, disturbed the trees to their core, and finally had been crushed by the river in defense of the elven realm. Laileth rode faster. 

Less than a week after she had left home she passed through the gates of Rivendell. The courtyard was buzzing with activity, for she was not the only recent arrival – the sons of Elrond had also returned from their long traveling. She jumped from her horse and led her to the stables, ensuring she would be well cared for before slinging her pack over her shoulder and turning to find the master of the house. Just as she reentered the courtyard, however, she was stopped by another welcome face.

"_Suilaid, Estel,_" she greeted, bowing slightly. He smiled, but then looked behind her, presumably looking for Legolas. She shook her head and could not hide the grief in her eyes. "He is not here." Surprise and shock vied for dominance on the man's face.

"Where is he? We cannot delay our departure much longer..." she raised a hand to calm his questions. 

"_Henion,"_ she said, "and it will not be." She leaned in closer to keep her words for him alone. "Something's happened in _Lasgalen_," she said softly. Behind her, though she did not see, Elrohir and Elladan were watching the exchange. Laileth lowered her head and continued. "Thranduil is dead." The reaction was immediate. Aragorn gripped her arm firmly in his and caught her eyes, begging them to say otherwise. Behind her, the sons of Elrond began to come closer, now openly listening.

"How...how did this happen?" Aragorn was able to choke out. He'd had few dealings with the Elven King, but those he'd had he remembered fondly, and he knew well of Legolas' love of his father. 

"In a raid. It is why I am here. I have news of Nasgul in Dol Guldur." She then turned, sensing the presence of the twins behind her. 

"We have found no rumor of them in all of the western lands," said Elladan. "You say now they have fled to Mirkwood?"

"I did not say 'they'," she clarified, "but there is at least one who has returned to the old fortress in the south. It was he who struck my father." Aragorn and the twins exchanged glances at this, and then the man put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

"Come," he said, "you must be weary from your journey. We will find you a place to rest and then you can tell your tale to the council." She consented to being led through the refuge to a guest room in the east wing of the great house. Aragorn led her in and watched with amusement as she lay her weapons and pack on the bed, and then turned to him with an expectant look.

"I said you were to rest first," he chided. She smirked and walked towards the door.

"_Estel,"_ she said softly, "you should know better." The two friends began walking down the hall towards the stairs. "Besides," she continued, "I am anxious to meet this 'Fellowship' he spoke of." At this Aragorn's brow furrowed and he stopped her. 

"Laileth, how much has your brother told you about what's happened?" he asked.   
"Enough," she said simply. "Enough to realize how important this quest is to _Ennor_." He looked at her with a guarded expression and she sighed in frustration. "I know of the Ring, _Estel_," she said, "you need not be so cautious with me. He has sent me here to take his place among you." The guarded expression did not leave his eyes, but he let go of her arm and continued walking.

"You may not wish to go once you hear of the nature of the mission," he said. She shook her head in what he would describe as amusement.

"You worry too much," she said, "and I have given my word. I know the ultimate goal lies in the Black Lands. It does not bother me." Aragorn sighed, but felt somewhat comforted. At least she was equally, if not more stubborn than her brother. He wondered idly then who was older and which had picked up the trait from the other. The thought brought a smirk to the man's face.

"Something funny, _mellon_?" she asked with a grin of her own. He shook his head with a chuckle.

"No, I was just thinking of how much you remind me of Legolas. You're as stubborn as he is." She flashed him a proud smile as they reentered the courtyard. Aragorn left her side for a moment, heading in the direction of another man she saw on the other side of the glade. They spoke briefly, and the man looked over Aragorn's shoulder at her several times before he nodded and left. Aragorn walked back to the now puzzled elf.

"That was Boromir, a Man of Gondor. I asked him to call a meeting with the Fellowship as soon as we can gather. We should ask also for Elrond to be present, for he it was who formed our company."

"Why does he not go with us?" she asked. She thought she saw her friend flinch as she said 'us', but chose to ignore it. He shook his head to disguise the reaction and answered.

"It is not his fate to go. Each member has a specific function in the fellowship and since he wished that the group be few, there is no room for another."

"What is your function?" she asked curiously. A strained smile showed itself for a fleeting moment, and was then hidden.

"I am the Heir of Isildur." It was the only explanation either of them needed.

An hour later Elrond entered the council room where Laileth and Aragorn had been waiting. The Silvan Princess bowed, greeting the half-elf formally, after the manner of her people. He greeted her warmly also, for it had been many years since either had visited the other.

"It is good to see you, Laileth. I'm sure you'll forgive me for asking the whereabouts of your brother." Laileth's smile faltered for a moment, quickly replaced with a mask of calm. 

"I would prefer to speak of it when all are here," she said. Worry passed over the other elf's face, but it was wiped away as another entered the chamber. Laileth remembered the face fondly from the many times he'd visited her realm since her birth.

"_Mithrandir_!" she cried, struggling to resist the urge to run envelop the gray pilgrim in an excited hug. He smiled, as if sensing the battle within her.

"Laileth," he replied in an equally cheerful voice. Almost as quickly, however, a look of worry replaced it. "Where is Legolas?" he demanded, seeing something he did not like in her grey-blue eyes. She opened her mouth to respond but was drowned out by the sounds of high-pitched laughter. All turned to the door to watch the hobbits trot in all in a row. An involuntary smile graced the elf's face and she leaned in to Aragorn. 

"_Periannath?_" she asked. He nodded with an amused grunt. "_Canad Periannath?_" Aragorn turned to her with a grin, clapping her on the shoulder before going to greet the hobbits. Laileth's eyes watched him go, amusement blazing from them as if from an inner light. This light faded when she saw the last two companions enter the room. The human, Boromir, followed by a Dwarf. Her eyes narrowed. The dwarf glanced in her direction, also regarding her with suspicion, before joining Boromir and Aragorn with the hobbits. Lastly came Elrohir and Elladan, as well as some of the scouts that had recently returned from the wild. At last Elrond spoke, winning the attention of all present.

"This meeting has been convened to hear the reports of the scouts from their travels, and the news from Mirkwood that has just arrived," he began, motioning first to his sons, and then to Laileth. All nodded their understanding to this statement, save one. Laileth's brow furrowed at the other elf's words, turning to look worriedly beside her at Aragorn, who had since returned to her side as they'd sat when the meeting began. He shot her a questioning look and then paused, guessing the problem before it was explained.

"_He's not speaking Sindarin,"_ he whispered. "_Do you not know the Common Tongue at all?_"

"_I've never needed it before. It is Legolas who deals with men._" Suddenly fear took root in her heart. They would never let her go now. How can she be part of a fellowship when she can't communicate with them? Elladan caught her worried expression and nudged his brother who also looked. Elrond, having seen his sons' reaction looked over as well. Soon all eyes were on the Mirkwood elf who was slowly becoming more fearful under the scrutiny. 

"Is something the matter, Laileth?" he asked. She looked franticly between him and Aragorn before responding.

"_I can not speak this language._" Elrond's eyebrows lifted in astonishment before lowering again in understanding. Most elves, save for those who have regular contact with other races, speak only their own tongue, just as humans and hobbits rarely know Elvish unless they are elf-friends. Being a princess, one would expect her to be familiar with the other languages of Middle-Earth, however her duties had rarely taken her outside of her own realm until now. Elrond looked to Gandalf, who simply shrugged in what appeared to be amusement. 

"_How then, will you deliver your message?_" asked Elrond. She couldn't tell whether he was putting on a severe pretense, or if he were truly annoyed with her limitation. Either way it startled her. Fear turned to anger. 

"_All those here who need to hear it will understand me,_" she replied, injecting her own annoyance into her voice. "_The others may be given a translation if they wish to know._" She felt a hand clamp down on her forearm in warning, knowing without looking it belonged to Aragorn. Elrond seemed to consider her words and then, to her surprise, nodded and stepped aside so that she could speak. 

Hesitantly, she rose and approached the pillar in front of Elrond's chair. Then she told her tale, beginning with the scouting party and the sighting of the Nazgul, causing several to visibly squirm in their seats. She went on to report the death of Thranduil and the crowning of Legolas as the new king.

"Thus making him the youngest king in Mirkwood's long history," Gandalf said, as if to himself.

"And so he cannot return," said Elrond, "this is ill news." While she spoke, The hobbits, Gimli and Boromir sat listening in bewilderment. Laileth noted with surprise that the dark haired hobbit had an expression of vague understanding on his face. 

"_So you see now why I have been sent,_" Laileth continued. "_He wished me to take his place and follow the Periannath into the Black Lands._" At these words Elrond looked sharply at her. 

"_And who is he to presume that I would not send another?_" Laileth gasped and turned to the elf-lord. 

"_Who are you to deny my King's wishes?_" she shot back. Aragorn and Gandalf both tensed in their seats, and the hobbits looked anxiously at each other. Even though they did not understand the argument, their tone of voice was unsettling enough. 

"_He was chosen. You were not. This will require more thought before I decide who should take his place._" Laileth approached Elrond as if in challenge, but Gandalf came between them, separating them at arm's length.

"Would you two wish to further aid the enemy by bickering amongst yourselves?" he said firmly, leaving no room for argument from either elf. "Every moment we waste here is one more that could have been spent on our long road. Elrond," he said, turning to fix the Noldo with his stern gaze. "I know she is not Legolas, and you had many reasons for choosing him specifically, but he would not have sent her if he thought she could not do as good a job as he. You must have faith in your Sindarin kindred." Elrond's jaw tightened at the appropriation of his hold on the situation, but nodded his assent. 

"And Laileth," Gandalf continued, turning to the silvan elf behind him. "_You must learn to accept the judgement and authority of others if you are to survive at all in this fellowship,_" he said in Sindarin for her benefit. "_Legolas may now be king of Mirkwood, but his reign does not extend beyond the forest._" Laileth's head bowed in supplication, her cheeks slightly glowing from embarrassment. She too nodded her compliance.

"You are right, Gandalf," Elrond said finally. "This fellowship is about acceptance and tolerance of others as much as it is about the quest itself." He looked around the room at each face individually before his eyes finally rested on Laileth's face. "If no one has any further objections, I will send Laileth in place of her brother." The chamber was silent for several moments while the information was absorbed. When at last no one spoke to challenge the declaration, Elrond continued. "Elladan, you're report?"

As the sons of Elrond began to tell of their actions for the past month, the tension in the room slowly ebbed and Laileth sat back down, as did Elrond. Aragorn again put a hand on her forearm, but this time in encouragement. She looked up at his eyes and smiled as they listened to the report. No Nazgul or other fell creature had been sighted anywhere in the lands from the Shire to the borders of Mirkwood. The servants of the Dark Lord seem to have fled for the time being, leaving their route more or less clear. 

"The occurrence of a Nazgul in Mirkwood, however, is curious," he continued. "And since you say there is only one, that would mean that the eight who approached Imladris are still shapeless and no doubt, finding their way back to their master as we speak." Gandalf nodded.

"And also, since the others have been exposed," the wizard offered, "the one in Mirkwood may depart to search for them." 

"Or they all may join their brother in Dol Guldur," Boromir commented. He spoke softly, almost as if the comment were for his ears alone. Nevertheless, all heard them and turned their eyes on the man of Gondor.

"That is unlikely, Boromir," Gandalf continued, "Dol Guldur had been long lain waste and the evil purged. Even if they were to return it would take many years to rebuild the tower, and Sauron is not one for wasting time when there is a war to be fought." Laileth breathed a soft sigh of relief at this. "No," Gandalf continued, "they will return to their master in Mordor, there to be clothed once again."

"Then we haven't much time," said Aragorn, the first time he'd spoken aloud since the meeting began. "Already we have wasted much time searching for something that we did not find. We must leave as soon as possible." 

"Agreed," said Elrond. "Very well. At first star in three days this fellowship will depart. I bid you all take what rest you can, and prepare yourselves for your long task." With that, the council was dismissed.

**end of Non-Cannon. From here on, it's book all the way!**

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Sindarin translations:

Chapter one:

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Hiril nîn - my lady

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Daro! - stop

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Saes! - please

Chapter two:

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perian - hobbit

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Orodruin - Mount Doom

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Ú-aníron den - I do not want it (lit.- 'do not desire it/this')

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adar - father

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Muindor nin - my brother

Chapter Three:

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Suilaid- greetings

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Estel - hope (name given to Aragorn by the elves.)

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Henion - I understand

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Lasgalen - 'Leaves of Green'; name of Mirkwood (before evil came, and after it was banished)

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Mithrandir - 'The Grey Pilgrim'; name for Gandalf

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Periannath - hobbits

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Canad - four


	4. The Ring Goes South

Chapter Four: The Ring Goes South

The next two days were used by all for rest and reflection. The hobbits spent much of their time together, or with Bilbo listening to his stories. Aragorn spent his time with Arwen, and was rarely seen at all, unless it was with Gandalf. The Ranger and the Wizard would spend many hours going over the maps in Elrond's library, sometimes accompanied by Frodo or another member of the Fellowship. Laileth was with them occasionally since she knew little of the western lands. East of the Misty Mountains, however, she knew quite well. Laileth herself spent most of her time meditating, working through her grief over the death of her father and separation from her brother. She too, was rarely seen by anyone.

The evening before they were to set out, everyone gathered in the Hall of Fire. They sat by the blazing hearth, and Elrond smiled to see them all together for the first time as a Fellowship. Much singing there was that night, and also story telling. Laileth's voice rang out, joining the chorus of other elves as they took turns recounting the Lay of Beren and Luthien. Aragorn as well sang a part of the ballad, and the hearts of all were lifted and filled with wonder. When the songs ended Bilbo told some of his verses and recounted parts of his tale that were not known to everyone. With all that happened, the night passed swiftly, and friendships were formed or strengthened as the hours went by.

Laileth had been sitting quietly listening to a song in the Elder tongue when Frodo came to sit beside her. She looked to him and smiled, but held her silence, gazing instead into the fire. Frodo's mouth worked as he tried to come up with the words, and finally they spilled out of him before he had time to think better of it.

"_Henion bedo lle,_" he said carefully. Her head snapped around to look at him, eyes filled with joy and wonder. 

"_Pedich i lam edhellen?_" she breathed. Frodo ducked his head and smiled shyly.

"I can understand what you say, but I can speak it little," he explained. The elf smiled warmly at him.

"_Then we are similar,_" she responded, "_for the same is true of me. I understand words that I could not speak._" The hobbit looked up at her and only then did she see the light in his eyes. He was different than the other hobbits, she felt, and not simply because he bore the Ring. It's presence she could feel always when he was near, sometimes stronger or weaker, but always was the malevolent tone marring the sweetness of the hobbit's place in the Song. The difference she felt when she looked on him this night however, as she watched him in the glow of the fire, was more like kinship; as a sister to a brother, or one elf to another. 

"Frodo," she said, realizing that some time had passed as she looked on his angelic face. "_I would have you as a friend if you would like. I have sworn to protect you on our journey, and I would rather do so out of love and friendship than duty._" There was a pause as the hobbit mentally translated her words, but soon a smile brightened his little face. Quickly the expression was masked with one of solemn acceptance, barely containing his excitement.

"Nothing would please me more than to have you as a friend," he replied, his eyes serious, and yet dancing with joy. She smiled back, taking one of his small hands in hers. 

"_Lle hannon, Elvellon,_" she said softly. She felt his little hand squeeze hers before he got up and, bowing slightly to her, headed back to where the other four hobbits waited for him. Only then did she realize that they were being watched- and not just by his kin. 

In a corner of the room Aragorn and Boromir sat together talking. Laileth glanced over and saw that they were watching her. She narrowed her eyes at the men, realizing that they had witnessed the entire exchange between her and the Ringbearer. She trusted Aragorn completely, but did not like the expression that she found on the face of his kin. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable she rose and moved to sit among the other elves, but soon her eyes strayed again to their corner of the room. When this time she looked over, Boromir was gone.

The next evening the Fellowship gathered in the courtyard of the Homely House. All had slept through the day so that they would be fully rested at the start of the journey. The evening had turned out to be dark and unfriendly, even in the elf haven. All were dressed warmly from the clothes Elrond had given them, and their packs were filled to bursting with food from his kitchen, the excess being laden on the pony, Bill, whom the hobbits had brought with them from their flight from Bree. 

There was little cheer from anyone in the courtyard, and again Elrond made sure that each member of the company was willing to go on the quest. At this Gimli spoke up, but Laileth did not hear his words. She leaned in to Aragorn and asked what he had said. 

"He said, 'Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens.'" Laileth nodded and considered the words.

"_The Dwarf is wise,_" is all she said. 

They were sent off with the good will of all elves, men and other races, and then at last their feet passed the threshold of the front gate. The quest had begun.

The Company traveled east and south for many days. They traveled only at night, sleeping while the cold sun rose over the dark clouds that had settled over the land. Everyone took turns taking a watch, but since Laileth did not need sleep as the others did, she would always take at least one of the three watches each day. Gandalf and Aragorn led the company, always further ahead and talking quietly together, sometimes even debating the course beyond. Laileth stayed at the rear of the group, behind the hobbits, but watched the debate between the ranger and wizard with interest.

They met no resistance at all in their first week out, and it seemed as if the scouts were correct – the servants of the dark one had all but fled the western lands for now. Two weeks after they set out the dreary weather began to change and the sun came out from behind the dark clouds. This cheered the company greatly to have warm sunlight on their faces by day, and bright starlight by night. 

Soon they reached the end of the first stage of their journey, camping in Hollin – a fair country of green grass and holly trees just overshadowed by the nearby mountains. The company gladly stopped to watch the sunrise and make camp in this cheerful place. 

Gandalf then began to tell the tale of this place to the hobbits, but Laileth did not need to hear. She of course knew little of the land west of the mountains, but everything around her spoke of the elves who had once lived where they now rested. Peace filled her heart as she listened to the echoes of the long-forgotten elves of Hollin and, as she listened to the quiet murmurs of the company talking and laughing together, she lay down under a holly tree and watched the leaves dance above her in the gentle wind. Almost she could let herself believe that she was back home, and that the tree above her was the more familiar oak or beech that she was used to than this strange holly of another land. 

The sun rose higher as Laileth let herself slip into a peaceful daydream, and the sounds from her companions gradually died away until she could hear naught but the slow rhythmic breathing that suggested sleep. She blinked away her own drowsiness and stretched out her senses, noting that not all were sleeping. A watch had been set, even here. She was about to get up to relieve whoever was still awake when she heard voices. Sam and Aragorn were talking quietly. 

Just as she began to pick out words from their discussion, they hushed. A sudden shadow passed above the company, and to Laileth it looked like a flock of dark birds had flown overhead, blocking out the sun . She remained still as stone as they passed, knowing that such creatures had sharp eyes, and that not all of them were free of darkness. When at last they passed by there was a silent pause before she heard movement again from her companions' direction. She sat up on one arm and watched as Aragorn woke Gandalf and told the wizard of what he'd seen. 

Of this conversation she could hear very little, but she was able to pick out one word: _crebain_. This was quite a familiar word to her, having used it many times herself. The _crebain_ are great dark birds that live in the forest of Fangorn or the plains of Dunland and are quite well known as spies of the enemy. Several times while Laileth had led scouting parties into the south of Mirkwood these birds had come, circling them and heralding the coming of their orc masters. 

"Hollin is no longer wholesome for us," murmured the ranger. Gandalf agreed and soon they were discussing plans to break camp after nightfall. Laileth listened to their discussion, but could make out few words. Caradhras, the great red-tipped mountain, was mentioned, and she looked up at the great peak in the distance. The way would not be easy for them, especially for the hobbits. 

Just as the day was darkening the rest of the company began to stir. The news came that they were to leave as soon as they had eaten, and all grumbled at the thought. They had been looking forward to a day of resting and a merry dinner with a fire, but it seemed that more cold suppers were to come. 

For the next three days they trudged on towards the mountain. The great peak loomed over them, slowly but steadily growing larger with each night's journey. Gimli, it seemed, was the only one of them excited to be nearing so great a mountain, and eagerly told tales of its history, and the history of many other mountains in the area, though he himself had never visited them. 

On the afternoon of the third day, as the company ate their 'breakfast' before their next hike towards the mountain, the first excitement between the companions began. When the Fellowship was formed, Elrond purposely selected members from each of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, not only as representatives of their peoples, but also to form friendships between the diverse cultures. Each of them knew it was inevitable that there would be disagreements and differences among them, and so this first incident came as a small surprise.

Laileth had kept to herself for most of the journey, save for time she spent with the hobbits now that she knew Frodo could communicate with her. She had become quite fond and somewhat protective of the halflings treating them not so much as children, but as charges. She had noticed, however, that whenever she spent time with Frodo, Boromir's eyes followed them constantly. In fact, she had caught him staring even when she was alone, which was the case here as she ate quietly by herself. 

This time, however, he was not happy with simply watching her. After a few minutes he got up and approached her. He settled himself on a nearby rock, making a show of choosing one close enough to be near, but far enough away so as not to seem intrusive. She looked up as he sat, but paid him no further heed. She did notice Aragorn glance her way and suddenly tense, but did not know why. She watched as he turned back to his conversation with Gandalf and felt sudden abandonment. She began wracking her brain for every word she knew of the Common Tongue, knowing an awkward conversation was inevitable. 

"You are very quiet," said Boromir softly. She noted that he chose his words carefully and spoke slowly so that she had time to translate what he'd said. She also marveled at his voice, realizing that he had barely spoken at all since they'd 'met'. It sounded proud to her, proud and strong, with a hint frailty that intrigued her. She looked up at him, suddenly very shy.

"I can speak little in your words," she said haltingly, thinking about each word before she said it. In the corner of her eye she saw Gimli look up as she spoke, but couldn't read his expression through his thick beard. The dwarf was always so hard for her to fathom. Boromir smiled kindly at her when she spoke.

"You sounded fine just then," he responded, just as carefully, "and that's a beautiful accent." He waited for her to understand what he'd said before continuing. "Forgive me," he said, subtly inching closer, "but you seem to me as one who belongs more in a throne room than a battle field. I find myself wondering why you have been sent with us." Laileth struggled to understand all these words, many of which were unfamiliar. A deep frown worked its way onto her face as she began to understand what he'd said. She thought for a long time of how to respond, cursing her limited vocabulary as she tried to come up with some way to express what she felt.

"You believe I am weak," she said finally, "because I am royal?" Boromir of course was quick to shake his head and deny the accusation. "Because I am female, then," she suggested. He protested this also, but this time she saw what she'd been watching for – a slight flicker of hesitation. Though it was uncommon for elves to be deceptive, she was skilled enough in dealing with people to know when she was being lied to. She wished to say as much, but again her limited vocabulary prevented her. Instead, her response was simple and clear. "You lie."

The expression on Boromir's face changed instantly from apologetic to enraged. He stood, his larger frame looming over her threateningly. Though the man blocked her view, Aragorn and Gandalf had looked over, watching the exchange carefully.

"How dare you accuse me of lying!" he growled, raising his voice slightly and drawing the full attention of the ranger and the wizard. Aragorn stood.

"_I was merely stating a fact_," she shot back, lapsing into Sindarin. '_I can't have a decent argument in their tongue,_' she thought, although she was frustrated that he hadn't understood. She could understand him well enough, unfortunately.

"How is it that in your long life you never learned the Common Tongue?" he demanded. "In fact," he continued, "why is it that, rather than a warrior, your King saw fit to send a pampered princess on such an important quest?" Laileth's hands strayed to the daggers nestled in her back, but felt her wrists restrained. Aragorn stepped between them.

"That's enough, Boromir," he said angrily, and loud enough for all to hear. Laileth watched as whispered, heated words passed between the two men. At the last Boromir threw off the other man's grip and stalked off to the opposite side of the camp. Laileth sighed in quiet relief, but took a sharp breath when she saw Aragorn standing in front of her, anger still blazing in his eyes.

"_What was that?_" he asked in the same harsh whisper. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again, realizing that any response she could give would be an excuse. "_How do you think that looks to the rest of the Fellowship?_" he continued. "_I would have expected this behavior between you and Gimli, but Boromir?_" Ironically, she and Gimli had been quite civil for the entire trip, something that many in the Fellowship wondered at.

"_He believes that I have no place in this Fellowship,_" she replied. Now it was time for her defense. "_He would prefer if a 'warrior' had been sent!_" Aragorn glanced at Boromir for a moment and sighed. He knew full well that she had been defending her home long before most of the companions had been born. Boromir's words were not rational, but there would be no mending the situation if they continued in anger.

"_Henion, mellon nin,_" he said, softer this time. "_You must understand, however. Boromir tends to...underestimate the abilities of those he doesn't know. It is his way. Is it possible you may have misinterpreted his words?_" She thought about it for a time before nodding soberly. 

"_Goheno nin,_" she said softly, "_I should have asked another to translate before becoming angry._" Aragorn sighed and clamped a hand on her shoulder before walking back to sit with Gandalf. Laileth glanced to where Boromir had gone, but he sat with his back to everyone.

That night the company finally began to climb the mountain. It was slow going, and soon snow began to fall. This bothered Laileth little, but the others' spirits seemed to lower slightly, and some of the hobbits outright complained. They labored on through the night and the snowfall became a blizzard. Several times they stopped to rest, and they soon found that each time they halted, the snow also slackened, and each time they started up again, the snow did also, but with greater strength. Finally they found they could go no further and they stopped, slumping to the ground in despair. 

They sat and rested in quiet thought for what seemed like hours to the frozen companions. It was only when Boromir began to fish the hobbits out from the rising snow drifts that they began discussing their options. A fire was lit and council was taken. All agreed that it was impossible to go on, and so at once they set about freeing themselves from the great drifts that had formed behind them. Aragorn and Boromir volunteered for the task, and soon were ploughing through the snow with their bare hands to make a way for the others.

Laileth watched them, somewhat amused by the display. There were two strong men trudging through the snow that was, at times, taller than they were. During the climb up the mountain in the snowstorm she was able to keep to herself the fact that she did not sink in the snow when she walked. Now that it was so high, not only would it be obvious, but also it may be a source of annoyance from her companions who had to dig their way through. She wished to run ahead and see how much further they would need to go, but knew this would risk angering those who did not have this ability. 

Her eyes darted down to watch Boromir struggling in the snow, his powerful arms parting the white barrier in strong strokes, and smiled. Turning to Gandalf and the hobbits behind her, she informed him of her plan to look ahead before jumping up onto the snow and sprinting forward around the curve of their path. She stopped on her way just long enough to wave at the two men before taking the path all the way down the hill. She barely heard the exasperated groan from the man of Gondor before she disappeared around the corner.

The path was much shorter than she thought. It seemed that the weather had made their journey seem longer than it actually had been. The men had not much further to go before the path was cleared and they came out at the bottom of the slope. She ran back to tell this to the others and no sooner had she done so that the other two returned, thoroughly chilled by the snow. They deemed the best way to reach the bottom quickly was for them to carry the hobbits while the wizard and dwarf followed. 

No sooner had they taken their last steps off the mountain path that a great weight of rocks fell from above, blocking their path back up the mountain. It was now clear that their bad luck on the frozen trail was the work of some dark magic, or perhaps the vengeful mountain itself as Gimli suggested. Nevertheless, something had wished they not take that road, and that something had prevailed. At last company rested at the bottom of the mountain, defeated.

Sindarin:  


Henion bedo lle- I understand (what you say/when you speak)

Pedich I lam edhellen?- Do you speak elvish?

Lle hannon- I thank you

Elvellon- Elf-friend


	5. A Journey in the Dark

AN: So it's finally here! I must admit, this chapter is much longer and took much more time than I had intended. I'm happy with it, although I'm very much looking forward to the next one! (Y'no, where it starts to get interesting *g*) Also, I want to say that much of what happens in this and the next chapter was (indirectly) inspired by another amazing work of fiction, 'In The Deep Places' by Lamiel (Search for her on Fanfiction.net) and she has kindly given me permission to use parts of her story to further my muse. (((Lamiel))) Oh, and did I mention that this chapter is extremely long? Just checking. More elf-angst to come in chapter six! *excited*

-MelanyeBaggins

Chapter Five: A Journey in the Dark

Gimli sat. He made sure to do so without betraying the intense weariness he felt from their failed attempt to scale Caradhras, instead settling himself carefully on a rock. The others all rested as well and again they took council. He was genuinely relieved when Gandalf said they could travel no longer that evening.

"We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell," said Gandalf, causing many in the company to groan at their options. Gimli knew in his heart that returning to Rivendell was not an option. It went against every fiber in his being to turn around and admit defeat. He had given his word to stay true and see the quest through to the end, and would not be daunted so easily.

Discussion began over what course to take. Retreating to Rivendell was quickly abandoned as an option, to Gimli's relief. The Gap of Rohan to the south was suggested, as well as turning north to skirt around the Misty Mountains, but these too were revealed as fell and dangerous. No other option was more fell and dangerous, however, than the one that Gandalf would suggest, and that they would eventually agree to take. The Mines of Moria. 

At the very mention of the name many hearts grew heavy. There was much discussion and further attempts to choose another path, but there were none. It was Frodo who suggested they vote. Gimli eagerly volunteered, taking any chance he could to see the great halls of his ancestors with his own eyes. His cousin had taken that path long ago and they had never found out if he had made it there or not. Excitement overwhelmed him at the thought of finally seeing him again and putting his fears to rest. Aragorn and Frodo also, reluctantly, agreed to follow the wizard. Boromir and the other hobbits spoke against the path, leaving only Laileth's decision to be heard. 

She had remained quiet through the entire debate, opting rather to listen to each position before making her own choices. She had seemingly been in deep thought when her name was mentioned, and was somewhat startled to find all attentions on her. She sat quietly for several moments before speaking.

"Moria is death," she said gravely. Her eyes scanned the faces of her companions while searching for the words to finish her thought, before settling on Gandalf's. "But where you lead I will follow," she finished. It was the first time she had spoken to the entire Fellowship in the Common Tongue, and her words wavered as if she were afraid to speak them. Gandalf sighed and smiled his relief, the hobbits frowned at each other and Boromir stood in frustration. _'Of course an elf would side with a wizard,'_ Gimli heard him mutter. 

As the others continued discussing, he stared at the elf, not listening to them. A new respect had blossomed in his heart at her words. Here was one who was not even originally chosen for this quest, thrown into it by unhappy circumstance, but nevertheless willing to brave all to see it through to the end. Yet around her, those who had volunteered for the journey were now reluctant to continue. He thought that this alone spoke volumes of her character and upbringing, although he would never admit it openly. 

They tried resting for the night, but were soon cornered by a pack of wolves who came upon them suddenly. The warriors successfully fought them off, only to find in the light of morning that the wolves they'd 'killed' had vanished. Clearly they were the work of some fell magic. This brief battle, however, served to further strengthen the bond between each member of the fellowship, for it was the first time that they had been in any real danger, and each had watched for the safety of the other. In light of the fell nature of their enemy, the company made haste to move on.

That morning was clear but cold, and their journey a dreary one. Gimli walked with Gandalf for a time, discussing dwarf history and musing about what could have happened in passed years to dry up the streams and chase away every living thing from their path. After half a day of such talk, however, Gimli grew weary of their journey, wishing to arrive at the gates of his ancestors as quickly as possible. He sprang ahead, wishing to be the first to spot the entrance which his keen dwarven senses had told him should be just over this hill, and-

The sight that greeted him filled his heart with dread. The mighty stream that should have flowed before the doors of Moria was now a bed of dry shale and rocks. It was dead, and he nearly wept at the sight. He shouted back to the others, and when they at last caught up to him they too gasped to see the dead river. 

"Indeed, things have changed!" said Gandalf in his shock. Gimli looked beside him to see Aragorn's jaw tighten seemingly in pain. 

"Even since last I was here," the ranger whispered to Gandalf. "Are we sure there is no other way?" Gandalf gave Aragorn a despairing look before starting again on their path. 

As they walked on, he told the fellowship a bit of the history of this place and what it was like in the days of peace, a story Gimli knew well. Many long nights had he sat with his father by a blazing hearth as the tale of the wealth and splendor of Moria was told, causing the deep and intense longing to see the great halls to well up to near bursting in the little dwarf. Now as he came so near to the place of tales and song among his people, the very same excitement began anew in his heart, only now to be tempered with doubt and fear. This was not the Moria described in the tales – this place was dead and dark, not alive and thriving with skilled smiths and craftsmen. The disappointment was overwhelming. A hand, warm and encouraging, grasped his shoulder as he let out a barely audible sigh of despair. He looked up into Gandalf's sympathetic eyes. 

"We shall need to find the doors, Master Dwarf," he said in an attempt to raise his spirits. "Our expert on dwarvish lore and craft would be most useful in this area." Gimli felt the excitement return anew at the wizard's words and clasped his arm in thanks before gathering himself to lead on. After about an hour's march as the sun set behind them, they came to a wall of rocky rubble. After carefully skirting around it to the other side they saw that it was this very barrier that had stopped up the stream, which usually ran fair and strong by the old gate. As they neared the edge of the water the feeling of dread returned and Gimli shuddered to see it. They all avoided touching the black water, instead hugging the cliff wall beside them as they walked. 

After another hour of scrambling over the rough terrain, as the stars began to poke out at them from above, they came upon what was once a trail of great trees. Now all that remained was the dead black stumps, a parody of the beauty that they once were. Gimli heard the elf gasp in horror at the sight of the dead wood, and she touched one of the twisted branches, her face showing her anguish at the feel of the dry bark. After several more paces they came to the end of the path they had followed and more trees though as Laileth confirmed for them, these two still lived, but just barely. 

Gimli walked forward and began to reverently caress the wall in front of them. The doors were close, he could feel it. Although it was an impossibility that any doors made by the skill of his people with a mind for secrecy could be found, still he looked for cracks that may give away their location, since the doors in question were quite old and may have begun to crumble with age. 

Soon Gandalf joined him in his search, running light fingers over the walls and occasionally muttering some spell or passwords to the stone before them. Gimli looked up at the wizard, but he seemed too intent on his task to notice him. Suddenly Gandalf paused, his fingers running over the same spot in the wall several times. More soft words were uttered and then he stepped back, pulling Gimli with him. He was about to turn to the old man to protest this treatment when to his astonishment, trails of white fire began to appear on the wall where they had been standing. Gandalf let out a satisfied grunt, and many of the others let out gasps and murmurs of wonder. The doors had been found at last. Gimli immediately recognized the devices of Durin set upon the wall, and Laileth pointed out the trees of the elves, Aragorn translating the hurried string of Elvish for the others.

After explaining the doors and translating the message written on them Gandalf began his work, shouting words in every tongue he knew at the silent guardians. The others listened expectantly for a while, but after several minutes of unsuccessful attempts many wandered off to rest until Gandalf found the right words. Gimli was the last to do so, still enchanted by the beauty of the doors themselves. 

"These signs were made by elves," he heard softly behind him. He did not need to turn to know the elf was standing close by, also watching Gandalf's progress.

"I thought you don't speak our tongue," he replied gruffly. She may be a worthy companion, and even a little intriguing, but she's still an elf. He felt, rather than saw her shrug.

"I have listened to each of you speak for many weeks now," she said, slowly, but evenly. "My kind learns quickly, but I still do not understand everything," she confessed, her voice low and musical. Gimli felt his anger slipping, but quickly shook himself. _'She's trying to confuse you,'_ he thought, _'make you like her with her feminine wiles.'_ He mentally berated himself for his weakness and took a few steps away from her. She merely smiled and walked over to join Aragorn. Gimli watched as the two spoke softly to each other in Elvish, suddenly wishing she had stayed. 

Hours passed by and the companions became more and more restless. Sam voiced his concern for his pony, now well on his way back home, while the other hobbits comforted him. Gandalf had sat himself down near the doors and was deep in thought, fully aware of the time, and that they were loosing the advantage of speed in their quest. Gimli sat near him with Aragorn and Boromir stood not too far away. Laileth stood a distance apart from everyone, at first staring at the stars and singing softly to herself, but then she had fallen silent and began staring intently into the dark water. 

Gimli noticed that Boromir had been watching her for some time and wondered why the human was so bothered by her presence. So what if she's a princess? Legolas was a prince and he hadn't objected to his being chosen. He shook his head and looked back to Gandalf, who seemed to have found some answer and had begun speaking to the doors anew. Laileth seemed to have heard the movement behind her for she turned and walked to where Gandalf had been sitting. Gimli turned his attention back to the wizard, noticing that this time many of the words were in his own secret tongue. _'Open, doors of Durin,'_ and _'Awaken, Guardians of Moria'_ he heard him speak, though nothing happened. 

Suddenly his head snapped around as he heard a splash. The others turned also to see dark ripples in the water rolling towards the dirty shore. Frodo stood, though did not move from his spot, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear.

"Please don't do that, Boromir," he said authoritatively, "I hate this place; I fear that pool, please do not touch it!" Boromir looked back, seeing that his stone had drawn the attention of the majority of the company and swallowed in what looked like embarrassment. 

"My apologies, Master Hobbit," he said and walked away from the water's edge. Frodo's eyes remained fixed on it, however, noting that the ripples did not disappear, but rather grew in strength as they reached the shore. Just at that moment he heard a cry from Gandalf that nearly scared the hobbit half to death.

"Of course!" he cried, laughing at his own foolishness. "Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer!" Gandalf raised his staff and cried: _'mellon!'_ All watched in astonishment as a crack in the wall became visible. Gimli felt utter excitement at watching the doors of his fathers' realm come alive and reveal themselves. Soon the great stone slabs were swinging outwards, opening onto the inky blackness that is Moria. When the doors finally ground to a halt there were excited murmurs among the fellowship. The hobbits looked into the darkness with wide eyes and then back at each other. Boromir swallowed thickly. Aragorn set his jaw in a determined stare. Gandalf stood back looking pleased. Laileth almost imperceptibly backed away from the dark cavern. Gimli was the only one who actually walked forward with a mind to go inside. 

At last Gandalf led them and reluctantly, they all followed, although Merry was slightly more jovial at being credited by Gandalf for solving the riddle. Just as Gimli entered into the dark cavern, he heard a scream behind him. Everyone turned in horror to see some foul darkness writhing in the water, with one slimy tentacle wrapped around Frodo's ankle. They all made to help him, but Sam got to him first, slashing at the thing threatening his Master with his small sword. Injured, the creature's appendage drew back into the water, and Gandalf shouted for all to hurry into the yawning archway.

They raced in, Sam helping Frodo limp to the door and cursing himself for not getting to him sooner. Just inside the doors was a flight of stairs and, no sooner were Sam and Frodo on the bottom step than more tentacles reached out of the water after them. Finding nothing but the doors to grab onto they wrapped themselves around the ancient stone guardians and tore them down, leaving nothing but a pile of rubble as their exit. They were trapped inside. All around them was darkness and the sounds of frantic and heavy breathing. Gimli looked around him but all he saw was dark. Then to his left he saw, or rather, thought he saw, a faint glow, a dim shadowy form of a person, but then it was gone. He shook his head dismissively, telling himself he would have to keep his wits about him if he was to last down here. Already he was seeing things that weren't there, and his nerves were on edge – where were all the dwarves? Why had they not been welcomed as one would expect at the home of one such as Balin? He pushed the thought aside as he saw another glow above him, this one growing stronger rather than fading.

Laileth immediately felt the darkness closing around her like an iron grip on her heart. Her breathing came in short gasps as her eyes tried desperately to pierce the darkness and see _anything_. She looked down and soon could see faintly her own hands before her, glowing dimly in the dark, though even they were merely a faint grey shadow, as fleeting as a flash of light on rippling water. She heard movement before her and looked up, suddenly seeing from above a dim light, illuminating the cavern as a single candle would light up the great halls of her father. _'Brother,' _she corrected bitterly, suddenly missing him terribly. 

The light came from the tip of Gandalf's staff, and she was glad of it, as now they would not stumble in the dark, although the light was dim and she worried that it may not be enough for the others. She scanned the cavern, seeing the others around her – the hobbits to her left, Gimli and Boromir to her right, and she felt, rather than saw Aragorn behind her. His presence was comforting, momentarily soothing the panic caused by the darkness. 

"Well," said Gandalf, his voice reassuring everyone that they were still alive, and that the blackness was merely a loss of light and not something far more dire. "We have no choice now but to take the Moria road to the other side."

"What was that thing, Gandalf?" asked Frodo, "or were there many?"

"I do not know, but something has crept into the dark waters beneath the mountains. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world. But now we must go; follow my staff!" Laileth heard Boromir mutter further about deep places and scowled at him, though she knew he could not see her. One thought went through her mind at the sight of him – if it weren't for his stone, that _thing _in the water would not have woken, and the doors and trees would still be there. _'And Frodo would not have been in danger. He is a risk to our quest and his recklessness will be our undoing!'_ It was a warning, but she knew not from where it had come. 

The company pressed on, following the light of Gandalf's staff and the sound of each other's footsteps as they echoed off the walls around them. Laileth walked much of the journey between the four hobbits, feeling the reassuring presence of Aragorn behind her and latching her eyes onto the staff ahead like an anchor. The darkness in itself was terrible for the elf to endure, being of a kind used to star and moonlight in open spaces with living things. Down here in the very depths of the earth, with the weight of stone seeming to crush them from above, spaces were tight and claustrophobic, and the only living things were her eight companions. Only when their path briefly led them to a wide open space could she truly breathe, although she still felt the weight of the mountains above them. And then there was the silence. 

She had never understood how much she relied on the constant song of life until she was cut off from it. It was like sudden loss of sight – one does not realize how dependent they are on the use of their eyes until they no longer work. She suddenly found herself relying on her companions for strength, for each of them flowed with their own unique tone in the great Song of Illuvatar, the strongest and purest belonging to Gandalf which grounded her and gave her the strength to keep going. She wondered darkly what she would have done had he not been there. 

After several long hours' march they came to an impasse. Three passageways confronted them, and Gandalf was hard pressed to make a decision on which way to go. A guardroom to the side of them proved as good a place as any to rest, and so after checking that it was safe, they entered and lay down their bedrolls, being sure to keep away from the well in the center of the room. 

The hobbits all stayed together to one side, with Boromir and Gimli claiming the other. Gandalf sat near the entrance in thought while Aragorn stood nearby. Laileth watched the others from the back of the room, standing close to the wall and peering into the dark like a silent sentinel. Her breathing and heartbeat had not slowed since the company had entered the mines, and adrenaline was pumping through every vein. The urge to fight or flee was unbearable now, and she was certain that some dark terror lay in wait for them, if only they would drop their guard and sleep. Thus it was that she could find no rest of her own. 

Just as the breathing in the room began to slow with sleep, a sound, as something falling into deep water, assaulted her ears. In the deafening quiet of the mines, this sound seemed thunderous, reverberating off the stone walls and echoing throughout the chambers beyond. Laileth covered her ears at the sound, biting back a cry of pain as the others were roused from their sleep. Gandalf stood immediately, cursing the hobbit Pippin for his foolishness in dropping a stone in the well, punishing him with first watch. The elf felt pity for the hobbit, the youngest of their company. She found herself remembering many foolish things she had done in her youth, and silently forgave him for his indiscretion, although redoubled her own watch for the rest of the night. 

After several hours rest they moved on, Gandalf at last choosing the path leading up into the mountain. As they continued on their road, Laileth felt Aragorn walking close behind her. After several minutes of silence she felt his hand grasp her arm and stop her. Ahead, the light of Gandalf's torch became smaller as the others continued on and she felt slight panic that they would be left behind. She turned to the man behind her.

"That was very foolish," he said. She frowned, though he could not see it. 

"What have I done?"

"It is important that we all take what rest we can. I know you did not sleep, nor even lay down. Ignoring your weariness can only be hazardous, not only to you, but also those who depend on you."

"I was not aware that my habits were of interest to you," she replied testily, increasingly aware that the tones of their companions were beginning to dim, "but if it would allow you to rest easier, I will sit for our next halt." With that she ripped her arm from his grip and quickened her pace to join the others. She heard his feet behind her, and felt his disposition change. Her words had hurt him, she realized. She understood that Aragorn's statement had merely confirmed what she had already guessed- the crushing dark was beginning to take its toll on her behavior, and that her reactions and reflexes were suffering as a result. Her pride and bruised ego, however, would not allow her to turn and apologize for her swift anger, at least not yet.

After yet another long march they came to a wide open space, filled with something approaching fresh air. Gandalf explained that they had climbed up high indeed and that should the sun rise while they rest they should be able to see some natural light. As he spoke his staff erupted in a burst of radiance, filling the room with white light for the briefest of moments before dimming to its usual level. The room was vast indeed and Gimli took a sharp gasp at the beauty that had been revealed, if only a mere glimpse. His heart began to beat anew with pride for the great works and skill that had once existed where they now traveled. Gandalf suggested they rest and set a watch as they each began to settle themselves down. 

Laileth listened for a short while as Gimli explained to Sam about his ancestors and began to reverently sing of their deeds, but was drawn away from it when she felt eyes on her. Aragorn had sat himself down and was watching her, his thoughts plain on his face. She held his eyes firmly and sat herself, making a show of settling down before turning back to the dwarf. She pretended to listen to him, all the while keeping an eye on Aragorn until he himself lay on his bedroll, satisfied that she had held to her word. The others eventually slept also, leaving Gimli on watch. 

She sat hugging her knees, trying to keep herself from drifting off also. Her eyes had grown heavy and more and more her body was protesting the strain it was under. The unyielding dark, however continued to choke her spirit, making it impossible to relax. As she sat, she allowed her head to rest on her drawn up knees, thinking back to happier times in her youth. She thought of her home and her father and brother, the forest, the song of life that she so desperately missed.

Unbidden, a memory from her childhood began to surface. She realized that she must have blocked it from her memory long ago, but that the dark of this place had again drawn it out. As her thoughts coalesced, she could almost smell the heavy earth in that dark wine cellar, feel her bruised hands throbbing from pounding on the door, that someone should hear her. Behind her she felt the wooden keg at her back as she pressed against it, trying to find something solid to hold off the sheer terror of abandonment and loneliness she'd felt. She even fancied she saw the thin sliver of light beneath the locked door that had been the focus of her attention for the entire twelve hours of her captivity. 

If not for one of the servants being sent down to fetch wine for the dinner table, it would have been much longer. She hadn't cried when the door had slipped shut behind her, but she did when it opened. The servant, wine quite forgotten, had gathered the young princess in his arms and whisked her back to her father who, after comforting his hysterical daughter, gave her a stern lecture about young elflings venturing down into dark cellars by themselves. Never in all her long life after, did she ever go down there again, instead sending another to fetch what she needed. 

"Laileth?" a small voice shocked her out of her reverie. She realized too late that she had been dreaming, her present situation quite forgotten. Frodo's small hand rested on her knee, and she jerked back, surprised at the change of location. At last realizing where she was, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

"Yes, Frodo?" she said, her voice betraying the fear that had risen from the memory. His eyes shone cat-like at her in the dim light of Gandalf's staff.

"_Are you alright?_" he asked in Sindrin, smiling slightly when the words of her tongue seemed to sooth her. "_You were calling for your father,_" he elaborated. She stared back at him for a long stretch of time before answering.

"_I miss him,_" was all she would say about it. "_Rest, Frodo, I believe it is my watch?_" She stood and watched him curl up beside Sam before directing her gaze to the darkness, resolving to herself to not let her guard down again until they were at last free of this dreadful prison. 

With morning came the light Gandalf had promised. Dim and wavering, it came from small deep windows carved into the side of the mountain. It raised the spirits of the company greatly and, though the light was much welcome, Laileth lamented that they were too far up and the windows were too far away for her to hear more than a faint teasing whisper of life beyond the cavern. It was like a single drop of water to a parched mouth, or a crumb of bread to a starving man. They moved on, now with an even stronger urge to leave the dark mountain. 

Just as they were leaving, Laileth caught Aragorn's arm. He turned to her, his expression unsure. The elf looked down, feeling a slight heat rise on her face as she swallowed her pride. "_Im naer,_" she said softly, "_I should not have become angry with you. You are right, I am weary._" Aragorn smiled and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"_As are we all, mellon nin,_" he replied before turning to follow the others. Laileth allowed herself a small smile before walking after him.

Gandalf led them into yet another great chamber, this one dimly lit by the sunlight and leading to another door from where the light seemed to flow. They entered and saw that it was illuminated by a great shaft of dazzling sunlight from high above, cutting through the darkness like a blade and striking a great stone slab in the center. Laileth rejoiced openly at the blue sky that was visible through the window, and the others looked up, equally cheered by the sight. It wasn't until Gandalf spoke that they were brought painfully back to reality. The wizard leaned over the stone slab and grimly read the words inscribed on its surface.

"Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." There was a gasp of shock all around, and Frodo stepped forward to touch the stone table with tentative fingers.

"He is dead then," said the hobbit, his voice full of pain, "I feared it was so." All around them, the walls of the chamber echoed with the mournful cries of Gimli, Gloin's son, the last living dwarf in the Mines of Moria.

****

Sindrin:

mellon: friend

Im naer: I'm sad/sorry

mellon nin: my friend


	6. The Bridge of KhazadDum

  
AN: So this is the first *real* departure from the books. I promise, it will get MUCH more interesting after this! *grins wickedly* So I hope you enjoy this! *hugs*   
-Melanye 

Chapter Six: The Bridge of Khazad-Dum

_  
I am not a pretty girl,   
That is not what I do,   
I am no damsel in distress,   
And I don't need to be rescued,   
So put me down, punk,   
Wouldn't you prefer a maiden fair?   
Isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere? _

-Ani Defranco

Silence reigned in Balin's tomb. Not even a breath could be heard after the anguished cries of the dwarf ceased. At last after several moments, it was Gandalf who broke the silence, shuffling his feet to make enough noise to rouse the companions. Gimli, still kneeling by the stone slab did not look up or even move. The others looked about themselves, as if for the first time. When they had at first entered the chamber, the only thought on their minds was the sunlight, and the unfortunate resting place of the Dwarf Lord. Now that they had calmed somewhat, they began to see other things in the room as well. 

Aragorn made to move beside Gandalf but Laileth caught his wrist. He stopped and stared, following her pointing hand to a skeleton on the floor by his feet. He looked into her eyes as they shared a look of dismay. It was now clear what had happened to the dwarves. Around them the others found similar evidence of battle littering the floor, and the tension grew. No one spoke until Gandalf picked up a burned and battered book. 

"It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk," he said. The others listened with a mixture of dread and curiosity. Laileth watched Gimli carefully as the pages were read. Much of it was garbled by age and damage, but what could be made out was telling. Gimli raised his head as Gandalf began to read, and after a time he stood and made his way to the wizard's side, looking past him to try and see the script for himself. The look on his face was that of a defeated warrior, devoid of will to keep going. And why should he if the very hope he had clung to all these years had proved in vain? She knew it would be difficult for him to go on, and resolved to give him a reason too. 

"We cannot get out," Gandalf read the last words of Ori, "the end comes. Drums," the wizard looked up, almost as if he heard the drums the dwarf spoke of. "Drums, in the deep." Gimli took a shuddering breath and Laileth fancied she saw him wipe his sleeve across his eyes. Gandalf finished the last page, his voice much lowered, conveying every ounce of finality in the phrase: "They are coming." His words seemed to echo in the chamber, and for many minutes the company could do nothing but listen to them. Then with a resounding thud Gandalf shut the book and gave it to Gimli. The Book of Mazarbul it was called, and the dwarf reverently stowed the crumbling pages in his pack, using all the care an elf would for an ancient volume from Gondolin or Doriath. 

"Which way shall we go?" asked Boromir. Laileth couldn't help but glare at him. He caught the look and shot her one of his own. Gandalf broke them up with his answer.

They were to go back the way they had come and find the Twenty-first hall that Ori mentioned. The company headed for the door, but then they all stopped dead in their tracks.

__

Boom.

Gandalf held his breath. Laileth's heart jumped in her chest and she looked to Gimli, who looked back up with an unreadable expression. Aragorn's hand strayed to his sword.

__

Boom.

The hobbits backed away from the door and Boromir stepped forward, tentatively peering out into the dark hall. As he did, sounds of feet and catcalls came nearer, and after a short look, Boromir came away from the door, his face full of terror.

"We cannot fight them all," he said.

"They are coming," said Gimli.

"_We cannot get out!_" cried Laileth.

__

Boom.

"Slam the doors and wedge them!" cried Aragorn. The others made haste to do as he said, but Gandalf bade them keep the east door open so that they might escape. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Soon after the doors had been sealed by the two men, there was pounding and scratching behind it. It was the sound of many dirty, slimy hands trying to literally claw their way through the barrier. Bits of wood splintered off as holes just large enough for an arrow were opened. Laileth immediately had an arrow notched in her bow and was firing at them. Some of the targets were still small enough that a few white tipped arrows buried themselves in the door beside them. 

Then the door crashed open. What followed was a blur of Orcs and cold steel shining in the dim sunlight. Each of the fellowship was able to hold their own in the fight, helping each other when they could. The hobbits stayed together with Gandalf, and Aragorn and Boromir fought side by side. Laileth ended up fighting nearest Gimli, and although no great love existed between them, they watched each other's backs as though they were kin. And, by the end of the fight, they very nearly were.

An orc barreled into the two new friends knocking Laileth to the ground and separating her from Gimli. She quickly slew the foul creature, but when she stood found that Gimli was some distance away from her. Boromir was close by, however, desperately fending off two attacking Orcs, one from in front and one behind. She ran, daggers in hand and slit the throat of one while throwing the twin dagger at the second. They slumped to the ground leaving a bewildered Boromir staring at the elf, as if for the first time. 

"Thank you," he said whispered in disbelief. Laileth spared him a quick smile as she moved to claim her weapons. 

"_Carnen an gwend,_" she replied breathlessly before running to fight again. The battle was won swiftly, the remaining Orcs fleeing back from where they'd come, but not before their chieftain ran in, death in his eyes. He battled briefly with Aragorn before knocking him to the side. Then, before anyone could react, his long cruel spear struck Frodo square in the chest. The hobbit made no noise, but pain was etched on his small face. Sam struck the spear with an enraged cry, and it shattered. The hobbit slumped bonelessly to the stone floor, while the others looked on in horror. The cruel orc was about to swing his weapon at another victim when Anduril sliced down on him, ending his twisted life with one blow. 

"Now is our chance, run for it!" cried Gandalf. Aragorn scooped up the fallen hobbit and ran after the others, but Laileth stayed behind. Kneeling by the shattered tomb was Gimli, and she could not leave him. She wondered at that feeling, for she knew that if she were in the same position a month ago, she most likely would have left the dwarf to fare for himself. Now that they had traveled together, suffered together, fought together, she would not leave him here to die alone. She walked forward and took his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. 

"Come, Gimli, we are not safe here," she said. It was a struggle to form thoughts in the Common Tongue, especially now that her heart raced with the heat of battle, but she made the effort, hoping that it would save her friend, for friend he was to her now. He looked up and met her eyes, naked pain in their depths. She knelt and took his shoulders in strong hands. "Come, we must hurry. You can do nothing for him." He allowed her to pull him up and drag him to the door, and they brushed past Gandalf on the other side as he waited to shut it against more fell creatures. 

"I am alright, put me down," Frodo's muffled voice sounded from Aragorn's chest. The ranger set him on his feet, to the surprise of everyone. Gandalf turned then, ordering everyone down the stairs. Aragorn protested, but Gandalf was not to be argued with. The company stumbled down the dark steps and waited.

  
Shuffling and screeching sounds came from the other side of the door. Laileth watched from the back of the company as Gandalf stood by the door, his staff lighting up the hall in an ethereal glow. Suddenly the door pounded outwards, but held fast, and Gandalf began chanting something in a secret tongue. To the elf's eyes he seemed to grow in those few moments, and he seemed more powerful than ever she had seen anyone. There was then a bright flash of light, and when at last her sight returned to her, the wizard was already running down the steps, taking them with him. His staff gave no more light, and she smiled when she heard one of the hobbits ask if he had broken it. 

They ran down many stairs for a long time before Gandalf would chance a rest. They found a landing between two staircases and he collapsed onto it in an exhausted heap. The others rested as well, with always an ear for danger behind them. As they sat there, panting from their efforts, Boromir made his way to sit next to the elf. 

"Thank you for helping me," he said between gasps. Laileth nodded.

"I would have done so for anyone," she replied, conscious that others were listening. Boromir shook his head.

"No, not for me," he said, laughing at her confused look. "We have not exactly been the best of friends," he admitted with a shrug. She let out a short laugh, still slightly out of breath.

"Friend or no, I would defend you with my life if necessary. We are all as important as each other. If we loose one the safety of the rest of us will be weakened." Boromir narrowed his eyes at her, surprised at the ease in which she spoke. Just three weeks ago she could barely communicate, and now she could converse comfortably with them. He found himself feeling more than a touch of jealousy, for he had not learned a word of Sindarin.

"What happened away up there at the door?" Gimli asked Gandalf, interrupting the conversation.

"I do not know," said the wizard. They listened as he recounted the battle at the door, and as he told of a dark power greater than any orc lying in wait for them. It forced him to use a more powerful spell, and the power he had used, together with the resistance against it caused the whole chamber to collapse. "I am afraid Balin is buried deep," he continued. He declared his own weariness and then at the same moment drew attention to Frodo.

"I am alive and whole," the hobbit reported, "although bruised and in pain." Everyone expressed their amazement at his recovery. Laileth thought to herself that there must be more elvish in him than simply his looks. Perhaps somewhere far back in his line there is some relation after all. Her pondering didn't last long, as soon they were on the move again. 

On and on they went, through winding stairs and great cavernous halls. Laileth was quite lost and realized quickly that had she come through here alone she never would have made it. Not only was the dark an ever increasing danger to her, but also she could now openly feel the dark power Gandalf spoke of. It seemed closer now, as if it was following behind, breathing down their necks. It took all her strength to just keep going, and not stop to dwell on the fear that chased them. Soon she noticed that she could see faintly ahead of them, although as Gimli pointed out, it was not sunlight, but the red light of fire. 

At last they came to a place that seemed familiar to the wizard, and he led them on. Great gaps and fissures opened around them in the floor and he had to steer them away from the perilous holes in the ground, dropping away into what they could only guess. As they went on the sounds of their pursuit again could be heard, but as they looked behind them they saw that the enemy was delayed- trapped by one of the great fissures that they had so carefully avoided. Gandalf spurred them to run with all speed, declaring that the way out was close, they need only cross a bridge and they would be free. 

Soon after they came to the bridge Gandalf had spoken of. It was thin and frail looking, and to Laileth it was as perilous as an ant trying to walk upon a blade of grass while the wind howled about it. But then the enemy was nearer and there was no time to debate the safety of their escape route. Trolls had appeared with the Orcs and made a bridge over the fiery chasm that held them back. Then, out of the mass of writhing orc filth, came the source of the dark dread that both Laileth and Gandalf had felt during the entire pursuit.

"_Ai! Ai! A Balrog is come!_" cried Laileth as the great fiery beast crossed the bridge the trolls had made for it. 

"A Balrog," said Gandalf. "Now I understand! And I am already weary." The company crossed the bridge as fast as they could, Gandalf urging them on from behind. When they reached the other side, he bade them continue and escape, but Aragorn and Boromir stood their ground, the rest following suit. There they watched in horror as Gandalf, seeming as an old and frail man, faced off against the Balrog, a great shape of shadow and flame, as powerful as the day its master, Morgoth, made it.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf cried. The Balrog stopped, but drew itself up to its full height in challenge as Gandalf commanded the creature begone. The company watched the scene unfold with growing fear, and soon Aragorn and Boromir were running to the wizard's aid, even as Laileth tried to hold them back. Just as they reached the bridge and were about to run to his aid the wizard's staff came down on the stone with a loud crack, causing everything and everyone to stop. There was a loud flash with that sound, and then they heard a crack, the unmistakable sound of stone splitting. The demon heeded it not and stepped onto the bridge, collapsing his end of it and falling into the great abyss below. 

No sooner had they breathed a sigh of relief for their fortune when a great fiery whip jumped up out of the darkness to wrap itself around the Maiar's legs. It dragged him down into the blackness below, even as Aragorn tried to run and help. It was too late. Gandalf, their guide and friend, had fallen. A moment of shock passed through the company before Aragorn roused them to press on. 

Laileth stood silent in disbelief, staring at the end of the bridge where Gandalf had been. She felt that somehow she should be able to go back and change what happened. The moment was so close at hand, surely it would not take much to go back to it and change what had been done? She was forced back into reality when she felt Aragorn's hands on her shoulder, turning her away and pushing her in the opposite direction. Her feet reluctantly took her away, but her mind was still going over what had happened, trying to think of a way for it to not be true. 

They ran on, up some stairs, and then suddenly like a slap in the face, it hit her. The song. It was just up ahead. She could hear the sweet melody of life- trees, grass, even other people, but this was faint. The beauty of it filled all her senses, and she felt drunk on the sound of freedom before them. "_I hear it,_" she whispered. Aragorn turned and saw the far-away look in the elf's eyes. "The song- I hear it. We are nearly free!" The others heard her cry of joy and ran on with more enthusiasm. Then they could see it- the light ahead. A doorway. They ran as fast as they possibly could to that light, and Laileth put all her speed into it, emerging at the head of the group. Aragorn called for her to fall back, but she did not hear him, as all her attentions were focused on that light, that purity after so long being buried under rock, suffocating. 

But Aragorn's cry had been a warning. Lurking by the glowing door were several Orcs and, while she did not see them, they certainly saw her. The leader smiled cruelly as the elf ran towards him. She came closer and closer, and finally the orc stuck out his foot and tripped her. She fell hard, slamming against the stone ground with enough force to knock a mortal unconscious. Dazed only, she tried to get up but was instead pulled up by her long hair. She heard Aragorn's cry behind her as he ran, sword drawn to help her, but her speed turned out to work against her- he was still too far away. Just as the others reached her the orc captain drew his cruel sword and buried it into the elf's back. She arched her back in pain, but no cry escaped her lips. The beast withdrew the blade and she fell limp to the floor even as Aragorn slew the creature that had assaulted her. 

There were many Orcs by the passage, and with the death of their leader they sprang and attacked the company. As the others fought, Boromir reached the elf on the ground, with a mind to pick her up and carry her to safety. He had assumed she was unconscious, and while she was fast nearing such a state, she was not there yet. As his hands grabbed her shoulders one of her's came up and she punched him square in the jaw, for in her pain she had thought him an orc come to finish her off. The man was knocked back to the ground, stunned and feeling the rapidly darkening bruise on his face. He was about to tentatively try again but the battle with the Orcs had ended and Aragorn got to her first. She again tried to fight him off, but the ranger whispered soothing words to her in Sindarin and she dropped her defenses, relaxing so much she must have given in to the merciful blackness.

Aragorn stripped the elf of her pack and quiver, handing them to the hobbits Merry and Pippin to carry. He then picked her up, mindful of the deep gash on her back, and bade the others follow him out with haste. They did so, concerned glances torn between the way they had come and the direction of the bridge where Gandalf fell, and the elf in Aragorn's arms. They ran out the door, the sunlight hitting them with an almost physical shock, and kept running until they were far away from the east gates. They had escaped. 

****

Sindarin:

__

Carnen an gwend- Done in friendship


	7. Lothlorien

AN: I'm really sorry it took so long to post this. I've had some RW issues to resolve, and I couldn't write for a while because of it. I'm still just getting back into the writing again, so this chapter is a big accomplishment for me. It's a bit shorter than usual, but then this is a short chapter in the book also. Thank you all for reading- your reviews make me so happy! *hugs* Chapter Seven: Lothlorien 

'_I am so high I can hear heaven,_

_But heaven, no heaven,_

_Don't hear me…_'

            _-Chad Kroeger_

The company fled the East Gate of Moria. Aragorn led them as far away as to be out of sight of the door before he would dare even slow. When they descended down the last slope of the mountain's foot he finally bade them rest and gently lay his burden on the soft ground.

Laileth had not woken since they had left the caves and this Aragorn thought was the cruelest irony. Of all the company, she was most desperate for the warmth of sunlight or the sight and sound of living things, and yet was now the only one unable to appreciate these things. Save for Gandalf.

'_Gandalf'_ he thought. '_What an evil fortune! How will the quest be achieved now? Who will lead us?_' But even as he thought it the answer came. '_You. You will lead them._' The answer gnawed at him as he began to gently examine the wound on the elf's back. She jerked suddenly as he did, causing more distress to the ranger. She is in pain. He looked up to request water and frowned when he saw six pairs of concerned eyes watching his progress. Had the situation been different he would have laughed.

"Boromir," he said instead, "there is a stream just up ahead, could you fetch some water? And we will need a small fire, Gimli." Boromir nodded and was up immediately. Gimli, though eager to help however he could, looked nervously around himself as if not sure how to start. 

"Can I help you, Gimli?" he heard a small voice beside him. It was the hobbit, Pippin. "I feel quite useless just sitting here, and I know a thing or two about campfires." 

"Of course you can help," said the dwarf, resisting the urge to hug him. Aragorn smiled and turned his gaze over to Sam and Merry who were fussing and fretting over Frodo. He would liked to have checked the hobbit's wounds himself, but he seemed to be in quite capable hands. His smile fades as he turned his attention back to the elf.

The orc's weapon had struck her on the left side, just between her spine and shoulder blade. The result was a deep gaping wound that most likely looked much worse than it was. Even so, it was dangerously close to many vital organs, although miraculously they didn't seem affected. Gently he began to probe the wound to make sure none of the blade had broken off inside it. His touch woke her, and she gasped sharply in pain. When he moved to see her face, he found eyes darkened with pain and sorrow staring back into his.

"_How do you feel?_" he asked, immediately realizing how the question must have sounded.

"_Naeg_…" she groaned. He frowned and looked up anxiously for Boromir's return. He saw that Gimli and Pippin were making good progress on the fire, and that Sam and Merry had finally coaxed Frodo into letting them help him. "_Estel?_" He looked back down. "_Where are we?_" 

"_Not far from the mountains,_" he said. "_We needed to stop to rest and heal._"

"_You mean to help me,_" she accused. Aragorn nodded.

"_Yes, you and Frodo. And we are all stricken with grief-_"

"_Estel. You need to go,_" she interrupted. His frown deepened, but she would not let him protest. "_Bind my wound and go. I will slow you down, and you need to get Frodo far away from here._"

"_Nay, Laileth, I will not just leave you here…_"

"_But you must! Frodo is in danger here; the orcs will pursue us after dark. You must go._" He shook his head and protested further, but the elf was insistent. "_Estel, I heal quickly. If you leave me I can rest and catch up with you la-_"

"NO!" Aragorn growled, raising his voice and causing everyone to look up. "_No,_" he said, softer, "_I will not allow us to be split up. Gandalf is gone, and I can no longer lean on his council, but I am certain he would never agree to this! I will not leave you here alone, injured and defenseless!_"

"_I am not defe-_" she began, but stopped when she saw the look in his eyes. She looked away. "_You put him at risk,_" she said instead.

"_So you would have me save one at the expense of another?_" he countered. "_'If we loose one the safety of the rest of us is weakened.' Did you not speak these words?_"

"_I did,_" she replied thoughtfully. She looked up then, hearing Boromir return with the water. "_But we have already lost one,_" she continued, "_and our safety has definitely been weakened._" Aragorn sighed, seeing the grief in her eyes over the loss of the wizard, and understood. She had known him longer than any of them.

Once the water had boiled Aragorn set to work cleaning and binding her wound, moving then to tend to Frodo. Merry and Sam had done as best as they could to patch him up, and Aragorn was amazed to find that the hobbit had escaped with only bruised ribs. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of something shining on the ground. He reached for it only to find the hobbit's mithril coat hidden beneath his discarded tunic. Frodo lowered his head and blushed in embarrassment and Aragorn held up the glittering coat for all to see. Gimli gasped in astonishment and Laileth smiled as if she'd known all along. 

"Mithril!" said Gimli. Aragorn's smile widened when Frodo looked up. 

"Here is armour fit for an Elven Prince!" he said, "and my heart is lighter knowing that you wear it." He finished tending to the hobbit's wounds as Pippin and Merry used the fire to make their first hot meal in a long time. Everyone was grateful for this luxury, and after they'd eaten and rested, they moved on with renewed strength.  After a short argument with Laileth, Aragorn picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and handed her things to Boromir to carry. She continued to protest further, but soon accepted her situation and eventually quieted down. 

It was only after they had safely entered the Golden Wood when Aragorn would halt their journey. Just inside the eaves of the great forest they stopped to rest, and only then when he set the elf down did he notice she had slipped into a healing sleep. It was just after dark and the woods were silent and watchful. Little did he know, although he may have guessed, that the trees were not the only creatures observing their movements. As the company set about preparing dinner for themselves, elven archers high in the trees watched them intently, analyzing and questioning their every move. 

The leader scanned the group with wary eyes, scrutinizing each member. He saw two men, a dwarf and what looked like four children. He looked closely at each one, drawing his own conclusions about why they would trespass in the guarded wood, before spotting the eighth member of the group- an elf, unconscious and injured.

Had he known that an orc blade, and not a dwarven axe or a sword of men had wounded his kin, he most likely would not have signaled to his scouts. They would not have leapt from the trees to surprise the group and take their weapons. He certainly would not have jumped from his branch to roughly pull the dark human away from the elf who lay prone on the forest floor. The man raised his hands in a weak gesture of peace.

"_Please,_" he said in the elf's tongue, "_we seek only rest from our-_"

"_No dínen!_" the elf commanded. His brothers and several other elves restrained the humans, dwarf, and children while he turned to see to the elf. He knelt beside her and looked over her injuries, seeing that they were grievous. "_You invade our realm and now you injure one of my kin?_" he seethed. 

Aragorn tried to move next to Laileth but felt an iron grip on his shoulder and an arrow tip bury threateningly into the base of his neck. He watched in dismay as the leader gave orders to others, who gathered around Laileth and gently lifted her up and carried her off into the forest. 

"No, wai-" Boromir began to protest, but was silenced by the elf holding him. The leader turned and glared, looking hard at each of his captives, causing the youngest hobbit to whimper. 

"_What do you mean to do with us?_" Aragorn asked softly. The leader's head snapped up and their gazes locked for several minutes. Finally the elf broke contact, glancing to the guard holding Aragorn. 

"_Nodo sain!_" he ordered. Aragorn had just enough time to gasp in surprise before a strip of cloth was tied over his mouth, and another over his eyes. His arms were roughly tied behind his back, and before he knew what was happening he was being led blind, deep into the heart of Lothlorien. 

Aragorn felt deep sickening fear growing in the pit of his stomach. He had tried repeatedly to communicate with his captors only to be immediately rebuked, most recently with a hand across his face. Try as he might, he could not understand these elves' irrational behavior. He mused that something terrible must have happened since last he was here. He had not visited often, but the few times he had he was never treated in such a way. He may be looked on with suspicion, yes, but not anger. This, however, was not all that troubled him.

They had taken Laileth, carried her off somewhere. Now they were being led, bound as though they were criminals, deeper into the forest. He knew the others were still with him though, and that was some small comfort. He could hear the heavy tromp of Gimli, the long strides of Boromir, and though the hobbit's feet made no sound, he could hear the occasional whimper from one or the other. 

He had attempted to keep track of their direction, but the elves were cautious and had led them on a confusing and winding path so that none of their captives could ever hope to find their way out. Nevertheless, he assumed that their destination was Caras Galadhon, the elven city in the heart of the woods. 

After many long hours on foot, they stopped. The captives were forced to sit while the elves seemed to have some sort of meeting. Aragorn guessed, since the air was slightly warmer, that it was near midday or possibly already afternoon. Also he could hear, amid the rustling leaves, the slight silvery music of rushing water. He had to suppress a smile when he surmised the reason for the delay. They approached the river Celebrant, and even for those with their eyes and hands, it is difficult to cross. The icy, swift flowing river was a natural barrier to keep out intruders, and the inhabitants were loathe to permit anyone passage over the water. He expected they would be sitting here a long time.

After a while, the cloth over his mouth and eyes was removed. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the sunlight, and found himself looking into the grey eyes of the elven leader. He studied the human for a moment, crouching in front of him with curiosity before looking beside him. He produced a piece of bread, which he handed to Aragorn.

"Eat this," he said in heavily accented Common. The tone and pronunciation reminded him of Laileth when she had first spoken the language, causing him to feel her loss that much more. _'She _warned_ you to leave her behind…'_

"Thank you," he said. He took the bread and bit off a piece, attempting to show some manner of trust, hoping that it would be returned in kind. The elf watched him curiously for a while, as Aragorn ate what was given to him, glancing around to see that the others were receiving similar treatment. Gimi, understandably, had quarreled with his guard, who in the end had thrown the food at the dwarf, leaving him to try to pick it up himself with his bound hands. The hobbits had meekly accepted what they were given, and Boromir had cooperated, but not without fixing the guard with a gaze as hard as steel.

"Why have you violated our borders?" the elf demanded. Taken aback at the accusatory tone, but delighted that the lines of communication had finally opened, Aragorn did not reply right away. "You will answer me," he prodded.

"_I cannot say,_" he replied in Sindarin. He knew this was not the answer his captor would have liked, but any information about their errand would be too much. The elf blinked in mild surprise at hearing his own tongue coming from a human before hardening his gaze once again.

"_I would know your purpose here before you go any further through this land!_" he seethed.

"_Our purpose must remain secret,_" he explained carefully, "_although I assure you it is for the good of all Middle Earth._"

"_And so slaying one of our kin is for the good of Ennor?_" he accused. 

"_She is not dead,_" Aragorn defended calmly, "_and we did not injure her. She is one of our companions, but was injured by orcs on our way through Moria. She is Laileth, of Mirkwood._" At the name the elf grew more curious, and Aragorn saw his features soften slightly. Also at the mention of Mirkwood several of the other elves looked his way. Aragorn frowned. "_What is the matter? Has something happened in Mirkwood?_"

"_That is not your concern!_" another elf, Gimli's guard, replied sharply. The leader turned to him and rebuked him.

"_Hush, Orophin! Although they are still our prisoners,_" he turned back to Aragorn, "_I no longer believe they are dangerous._"

"_But Haldir, they invaded our realm,_" said another. He was about to continue when the leader, Haldir, cut him off. 

"_Really now, Rumil,_" he said with a grin, "_how much damage could two men, a dwarf and four small children do against the Galadhrim?_" Rumil closed his mouth and stepped back behind Boromir. Haldir turned back to Aragorn. "_So, are you dangerous?_" he asked. Aragorn met his stare unflinching.

"_No._" The elf smiled.

"_I would believe you, but we must wait until the messengers return before we continue. They go to ask of the Lady what is to be done with you._"

"_But why have we been treated as prisoners?_" Aragorn prodded. "_What has happened to make anyone who ventures into the woods a threat?_" Haldir paused, as if he would not answer. Finally after a long moment he answered.

"_Security on our borders has been tightened. Anyone entering the woods, even the outer edge, is too be looked on with suspicion. We can no longer take the chance that they may be hostile._" At Aragorn's confused stare, he clarified. "_Mirkwood has been attacked._"

**Sindarin:**

Naeg- pain

No dínen –Silence! (no talking)

Nodo sain- bind them!


	8. The Message of Galadriel

Chapter Eight: The Message of Galadriel

_'G-d forbid you ever have __to walk a mile in her shoes, __then you really might know __what it's like to have to choose…' _

_-'What it's like' –Everlast_

* * *

The messengers had returned just before dark with word from the Lady Galadriel. The prisoners were to be freed and brought to the city as guests. Haldir and his brothers quickly removed the ropes from the Company, apologizing profusely for their rash actions.

"None are needed," said Aragorn, "you were doing your duty, and I would do the same in your place." Haldir smiled and grasped the ranger's shoulder in friendship. The gesture was returned in kind.

"The Lady is wise to trust you," he said, releasing him and signaling to the scouts that they were to move on. Aragorn heard the hobbits chattering amongst themselves, as well as Gimli's constant grumbling following behind. Boromir was quiet, and hung to the back of the group. "You have her favor, you know," Haldir continued. "The messengers say she became quite cross when she heard you had been captured. It is as though your arrival was expected." Aragorn nodded.

"That may be so," he said. "We set out from Imladris, sent by the Lord Elrond. It is possible he sent word ahead of us."

"I see. And what is it you were sent out to do?" Aragorn stopped when he heard this, his face serious.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you that, _mellon_." Haldir nodded.

"I understand," he replied gravely. "In these dark times, many things must be kept secret, even among allies. Although, had the Lady not given you her favor, I would have been inclined to probe further. One can never be too careful, though I do sense a great unease about your errand."

"It is well that your realm is guarded so vigilantly," said Aragorn, "but I beg you, let us not speak more of our…errand." The Company walked further on in silence, quietly remarking among themselves on the beauty of the forest around them, now that they were free to enjoy it.

Frodo stayed quiet and kept close to Sam as they traveled. At first he was caught up in the beauty of their surroundings as they all were, but the deeper into the woods they went, the more his unease grew. It was as if he knew somehow that every step brought him nearer to some difficult test that was to come. As he looked around, he saw that none of the others seemed to feel as he did, and so he tried to relax. Aragorn was with him; he would protect him from anything.

They walked for some time through the Golden Wood, the trees growing taller and thicker as they went on. Merry and Pippin at first tried to amuse themselves by counting all the trees they passed. Each time they came within arm's length, they would touch the smooth bark and shout out a number. Finally after nearly an hour of this, Gimli had had enough.

"Confound your blasted counting!" he cried in frustration. Both hobbits cried out and complained to the dwarf that they were only having fun.

"We've been walking for hours," Merry exclaimed, "we're getting bored!"

"Never mind him, Merry, let's keep going. What number were we at?" Gimli felt a grin spread on his face in satisfaction as the two tried to remember their count.

"Now we'll have to start all over!" Pippin wailed. One of the elves walking nearest the trio leaned over to him.

"Five hundred and sixty-eight," he said in heavily accented Common. "Your total was Five hundred and forty-three, but you missed several while distracted by the dwarf."

"You were counting too?" Pippin asked in amazement.

"Of course!" said another elf, walking nearest Merry. "Ciran and I have spent many long hours on guard duty and must find some way to pass the time. Still, it is quite an old game."

"Yes," Ciran continued, "there are only so many times one can count all the trees in the forest without succumbing to boredom."

"_All the trees in the forest_?" Pippin repeated in wonder. Ciran and his friend smiled at each other.

"We are quite long lived, young hobbit."

It was after sundown in the mystical twilight most beloved of the elves that they arrived in the glowing city in the heart of the forest. Haldir guided the group around the strong outer wall to the front gate of the city, guarded by elves in full armor. The hobbits stared at them with wide eyes as they passed, for never had they seen such a sight before.

As they entered the city, the entire fellowship was struck with quiet awe as they got their first glimpse of Lothlorien the fair. They were among the largest and tallest trees in the forest, home to hundreds of elves. Haldir led them through the city to the largest tree any of them had ever seen.

The staircase that was carved into the side of the living tree, was guarded at its base by more armored elves. Haldir approached them, and the others watched as they greeted each other and spoke in low tones for a few moments. Then one of the guards raised a silver horn and blew one clear note upon it. Seconds later, the tone was answered by another from high up in the tree. Haldir turned back to the others.

"It is true, you have been expected," he said, focusing on Aragorn, then Frodo. "The Lord and Lady await you above." He then climbed the first few steps and looked back for the others to follow. Frodo went first, followed by Sam, keeping close to his master, who in turn was staying near to the elf in front of him. Aragorn and the others followed at their own pace, but stopped several times along the almost never-ending stair to rest, while Frodo and Sam pressed on.

Frodo saw, as they climbed higher and his mind began to wander, that the stairs themselves seemed to glow with their own inner light, the same way he noticed Laileth and the other elves he'd met do. The light around them from the lamp Haldir carried, and even from Haldir himself, was a soft and soothing glow. He felt himself begin to relax more and more with each step, even though his doubts and anxieties about this place remained. By the time he reached the top and climbed through the hole in the floor of the flet he felt almost completely at ease.

After helping a puffing Sam up the last few steps, he stood and looked around in amazement. They were inside a grand house, if it could be called that. The only roof Frodo could see was the green leaves of the mellyrn, with the occasional star poking through from the sky above. The walls were a soft and almost glowing grey, the same as the trunk of the great tree that plunged out through the floor and continued on up through the leaf ceiling. Frodo's eyes were then drawn ahead towards the glowing figures of two elves who seemed to have been waiting for them. Haldir stepped in front of the two hobbits and bowed low to the other elves.

"May I present Frodo and Sam, two of the four _peredhil_ traveling with the Company from _Imladris_." The hobbits bowed reverently and the Lord and Lady smiled as if to young children.

"Rise, please," Haldir said softly. "This is Celeborn and Galadriel, the Lord and Lady of Lorien."

"Welcome, Ringbearer," the melodic voice of the Lady Galadriel floated as velvet toward the hobbits. Sam turned to Frodo in surprise, but his master didn't seem concerned; indeed, he hardly even seemed to have heard at all by the dreamy look in his eyes. He was about to speak to 'wake him up', when the sounds of the fellowship clambering up through the floor distracted him.

After that, Sam was lost in a sea of words. Many things were said – about the Fellowship, the quest, the Ring, Sauron, and Gandalf. Sam listened to the words, but what he listened to mostly was the sound of the Elves' voices. He had always wanted to meet elves, ever since he was a lad. Even when he met with Gildor and the wood elves, and then later Elrond and the elves of Rivendel, still he felt as if he had yet to 'meet' elves. Now, finally, he understood. What he had really been waiting for was to meet Galadriel.

"And what of Laileth?" Aragorn finally asked, once all the pleasantries were dealt with. There was a brief silence, and Galadriel and Celeborn shared a look between them.

"She is resting," Celeborn answered. "She was grievously wounded, and our healers worked on her for some time to repair the damage."

"She'll be alright, won't she?" asked Pippin. Merry elbowed him in warning, but Celeborn nodded to him and answered.

"Yes, she will heal. She has asked for you, Aragorn. When we finish here, Haldir will lead you to her room."

"Does she know yet about Mirkwood?" Aragorn asked, his eyes never leaving Celeborn's. The elf met his gaze.

"Yes."

She had watched as the Fellowship were escorted into the city, and watched as they met with the Lord and Lady. Now that they had left, she just watched. The whole city thrummed with life, the sounds of voices, rustling trees and birdcalls all flowed together in a soft symphony below her. Her thoughts were far from here, however, and the music of nature was merely a backdrop of white noise for her inner thoughts.

'I apologize, Laileth,' she had said, 'we have news from Lasgalen. I'm afraid it is not pleasant.'

She closed her eyes, as if the motion could banish the memory. How painful the news had been, while she was still recovering from her physical wounds! Ever since she had received the news, it was as if her spirit had left her body, and now there was naught but a corpse left where once she lived. How _could_ she go on, knowing what might, nay _was_ happening in her home? To her people, her _family_? How could she go on, knowing that her hosts not only know about what is happening, but have done nothing to help? How could she?

Behind her, she heard the groan of weight on the rope ladder leading up to her talon. She did not turn, for she was numb to all feelings, good or ill. She simply took note of the sound and continued her surveillance of the city below her, dead eyes scanning what could never be hers. She barely even flinched when a hand rested lightly on her shoulder, or even when that hand gently turned her body so that she faced her visitor. She showed no resistance when he wrapped his arms around her and guided her head to rest on his strong shoulder, but she did not return the gesture all the same.

"Laileth, I am so sosrry," he whispered. She knew she should cry, that it was what was expected of her. Cry for her imperiled city, her brother, her friends. She just could not – she had no tears left. Her eyes stung all the same, and when Aragorn raised her head to look at her, he found her eye red with grief. "What can I do?" he asked.

'Oh how little he knows what he asks,' she thought. 'I would have many things, but you could not give them! I would have you comfort me in a way you could not, or bring my father and brother back to me, or make whole my beloved city. I would have all these things, but they are not mine for the asking. Why would you simplify my wants in this way, when nothing with me is simple?' She wished she could say these things to him, ached to say them, but knew she couldn't. She loved him as a friend, even as kin. She could never say anything to harm that friendship. So instead, she turned away.

"Nothing," she whispered, "there is nothing you can do." She walked the few paces to the edge of her talon and looked down, again letting the steady murmur of life soothe her, if only briefly. And then, as if lightening had struck, she looked up. "No, there is something," she whispered, loud enough for one acustomed to living with elves to hear.

"Anything, _mellon_," he answered. She turned to face him, and it was the hardest movement she had ever made. She lifted her eyes to his and made her request.

"Please let me go."


	9. Goodbye

**This is not a new chapter**

**This is an announcement for all readers of my active stories that I will no longer be updating on this site, but on my new website (see my profile page for address)**

**After having a story deleted by I have decided that the site is more trouble than it's worth. I am upset about the necessity of this step, but it was a long time coming. **

**I am as now setting up a 'review board' for my website, but until it is up and running, all reviews should be sent to melanye magma. ca **

**Again, thank you for reading my stories, and I hope to see you all at my new site.**

**Sincerely,**

**Melissa, aka**

**MelanyeBaggins**


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